The Servant's Return
by Pandora Jonet
Summary: Kilgharrah warned him that he had not been fully healed, but Merlin didn't listen. He ignored the pain from the venom, and suffered the consequences. AU to episode 3x02, "The Tears of Uther Pendragon." Some whump, no slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I guess this makes my first fanfiction. I hope you guys enjoy! This popped into my head while watching the Tears of Uther Pendragon... I suppose that's a given, considering it takes place in that episode. ^-^' **

**Summary: Kilgharrah warned him that he was not fully healed, but Merlin didn't listen. Ever the hero, he ignored his lingering pain, and suffered the consequences. AU to episode 3x02, "The Tears of Uther Pendragon." **

**Warnings: Whump. I consider it light, but just to be safe. No slash, as I prefer the things that stick true to Arthurian Legend.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin... Believe me, if I did, it would've had a better ending. **

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Chapter 1

Despite the fact that he was taking the shortest route to Prince Arthur's chambers at an agonizingly slow pace, a cold sweat was beginning to form on Merlin's brow, his raven black hair clinging to his sallow skin. He was quickly becoming painfully aware that Kilgharrah _may _have been right when he warned that the serket's venom had yet to leave his system. Damn that dragon and his apparent omniscience.

He kept to the most unused of the passages, though at this hour it was unlikely that he would encounter many people, including servants. When Kilgharrah had delivered him to the forest just outside of the palace, the world was still covered by the blanket of night; in fact, even now, after removing the mandrake from Uther's chambers and "neglecting" to tell Gaius of the serket sting, it wouldn't be time to take the Prince's breakfast for another couple of hours. In his current condition, it wasn't too difficult to acknowledge that it might just take him that long to make it to prat's chambers.

By the time he did reach the large wooden doors of Arthur's chambers, any strength given to him by adrenaline had long snice faded away. He leaned with his back against the cold stone wall, his breath coming out in the form of something akin to panting and droplets of sweat rolling down his flushed cheeks. The dull pain from the wound on his back had multiplied tenfold, throbbing with his far too rapid heartbeat. He stood with his eyes closed just long enough for his breathing to even out. With the sleeve of his jacket, he attempted to wipe the sweat off his forehead, then pushed himself off the wall. He eyed the chamber doors wearily; he knew that opening them in his current state without keeling over was unlikely, however opening them with magic would most likely serve to exhaust him further.

Shaking his head and steeling his nerves, he unlocked the door with a small flash of gold in his normally azure eyes and pushed it open with both hands. Once inside he took a deep breath and strode across the room to the window as though he hadn't been dying in a pile of leaves the other day and he flung open the curtains. As the morning sun flooded the room, a dull throbbing sensation formed beneath his temples, and he turned on his heals to avoid looking into the light. As he turned, the cheery and purposefully annoying morning greeting that he had prepared died on his tongue as he took in his surroundings.

He was gone _two days, _but judging from the room one would guess that he had been gone for at _least_ a month. Various articles of clothing lied strewn about on the floor, and to be honest it was a bloody miracle he hadn't tripped over one of them. The table near the door had a stack of plates disproportionate to the number of meals Prince Clotpole would've eaten in Merlin's absence, and several goblets sat perched in precarious places around the room.

Forget Uther, "What the bloody hell happened?!" Merlin asked as the Prince moaned and shifted in his bed._  
_

At the sound of Merlin's voice, his body shot upright. "What _happened?_" he asked incredulously, anger tinging his words as he pulled back the covers. "I've had to make do without a servant, that's what happened!"

The manservant looked around the room, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "I wasn't gone for _that _long!"

Arthur shot him a glare as he pushed himself into a full sitting position. As Merlin started to slowly pick up the Prince's clothes and drape them over his arm, hiding his grimace as a wave of pain shot through his back with every movement, the Prince added, "Without my permission!"

Merlin shot him a glare of his own. "What if I was dying?" he asked humorlessly.

"I wouldn't be complaining!" Arthur shouted. He took a breath before adding, "But you're not, so where've you been?"

The warlock stood straight, looking thoughtful for a moment before saying with complete seriousness, "I _was_ dying."

The Prince shook his head in exasperation. "I don't have time for this." He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, his face the very picture of an aggrieved toddler. "The future of the kingdom rests on my shoulders. Do you have _any_ idea what that feels like?"

_Oh, the things I could tell you... _Despite the fact the question was rhetoric, he started, "Well..."

"_Merlin!"_ Arthur cut him off, turning to glare at his manservant once more and crossing his arms. "I should have you thrown in the dungeons, you know." A pause. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The warlock pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he nodded and looked the Prince in the eye. "You've not had your breakfast this morning, have you?"

_"...Breakfast?!"_ Big mistake. There was a glint in his eyes as the Prince shouted, "I'll have _you _for breakfast!" He grabbed the nearest object on his nightstand-a rather expensive looking goblet-and launched it at Merlin, who, being used to the prat's moods, deftly ducked out of the way.

There was a stabbing pain in his lower back, but he simply shrugged it off and decided to push the Prince further with a loud, "No wonder this place is such a mess!" He ducked just in time to avoid another projectile, a plate which clattered to the floor. "Oh, yes, I can see you've got all the makings of a _great_ king!"

He turned to leave, not noticing the Prince as he threw one last dishware at his retreating form. Apparently, all of the Prince's target practice had paid off, for he hit his mark: Merlin's back.

Suddenly, Merlin let out a shriek of pain and fell to his knees. The pain was almost _unbearable, _but he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to ride it out. _Of course he would hit the wound... Of _course, he thought over the blood rushing through his ears. He couldn't hear anything. His hands clutched feebly at his back, futilely trying to force the metaphorical fire on his back to abate. He couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips as he felt himself tip over and hit the hard stone floor. Distantly, he thought he heard someone calling his name. At first, they sounded angry. _Must be Arthur..._ he thought absently.

A hand grabbed onto his shoulder and started shaking him, continuing to call his name over the whimpers of pain their actions were inciting. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find himself in a fog. His eyes rolled around frantically, searching for the owner of the voice and the hand so he could tell them to sod off and let him rest for _just_ a moment. His eyes found a pair of cerulean eyes filled with thinly veiled concern. He mumbled something intelligible, even to his own ears, before closing his eyes and falling into oblivion.

* * *

Well, that's the first chapter I suppose. Should this be continued? If I do continue, I'd like to point out that I have absolutely no idea where this is going. XD I most likely will, and hopefully I can update around volunteering and school... and work, if I ever manage to find something. .

Anyways, thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!

Best Wishes,

~Pandora


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh, wow... I seriously wasn't expecting much response. Picture Merlin at Aithusa's hatching and after killing the griffin and you have my reaction. Thank you so much! I really hope I can live up to your expectations! With everything going on right now, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update, but I'll try my best! I apologize if I don't respond to reviews individually, I have precious little time... I have perfect timing. -.-  
**

**Once again, I do not own Merlin. In my version of the ending, either Arthur would never get stabbed or they would make it to Lake Avalon in time. v.v**

**Not really a warning, but a quick note: If there are some discrepancies between how Merlin and Arthur perceive the situation, it's completely intentional. Merlin's pretty out of it. :o Also... I'm super self-conscious right now. Hope you enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

When Merlin yelped and pitched forward, Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, stop being such a _girl_ _Mer_lin." He walked towards his changing screen, his angered expression firmly in place as he told his manservant, "Get up and help me get dressed." Without even glancing at Merlin, he walked behind the screen, awaiting a shirt and a change of trousers. After a few moments, he was starting to lose what little patience he possessed.

"_Mer_lin!" he called. "I don't have all day! I have a meeting in the council chambers within the hour and..." He trailed off as he heard a small noise coming from across the room. It sounded like...whimpering. With a frown, the shirtless Prince peered out from behind the screen to find that the manservant was still huddled by the doorway, his abnormally pale hands fumbling with the back of his dirty brown jacket. "Merlin?" he asked, his annoyance beginning to dwindle.

No response. Just as he opened his mouth to call the younger man once more, whatever scathing remark he had prepared shriveled and died as Merlin cried out and toppled over, his head colliding with the stone with a painful sounding thud. Shocked, Arthur walked very quickly (_he did _not_ run__,_ his mind told him, _because that would never happen_) to his manservant's side.

"Merlin!" he called again, his voice tinged with (t_he absolute_ slightest) concern. Merlin's eyes were closed tightly, and his breathing came out in short gasps and soft mewls. The Prince placed a hand on the manservant's shoulder and shook him as gently as possible. "Come on, _Mer_lin. Don't be such a lazy idiot." When the only response was an almost imperceptible moan, Arthur felt himself become _somewhat _worried. "_Mer_lin, open your eyes...clotpole!"

_Finally_, he got a response. Merlin's eyes flickered open, glazed over with pain and staring almost blindly ahead of him. "Merlin...?" Slowly, sluggishly, the manservant's deep blue eyes rolled about the room, eventually meeting Arthur's-alright, _concerned_-gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were so quiet that they couldn't possibly be considered much more than squeaks. It was then that the Prince noticed Merlin's ashen complexion and the small beads of sweat that rolled down the man's face. Before Arthur could even ask, Merlin's eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and shut, his body growing more limp than before.

"Damn it, _Merlin!_" Arthur shouted, his shaking becoming more vigorous. This time the servant didn't so much as whimper. The royal cursed under his breath. "Guard!" he called. After a pause, he raised his voice and called again. After another pause, he could hear the sound of boots clicking in the hall outside his chamber, and the door was thrown open.

A very out of breath guard entered. "Sire?" he croaked.

_My savior, _Arthur thought ruefully, making a note to strengthen the guard requirements for the citadel. Obviously this one wasn't at his post. "Alert the Court Physician! Tell him to make ready for an injured patient!" he ordered. The guard nodded and scurried from the room. If he found it strange that the heir to the throne, wearing nothing but a pair of night trousers, was crouched over an unconscious manservant, he made no indication.

"_I _was_ dying._" Merlin's words echoed in his mind and Arthur nearly prayed that this was some sort of coincidence. Determined to find the cause of his servant's condition, he carefully positioned Merlin so that his back was perpendicular to the floor. With as much caution as he could muster, Arthur peeled off Merlin's jacked halfway, rolled up his somewhat ragged red shirt, and what he saw chilled him to the bone.

All along the manservant's back were long, winding tendrils of a hideous purple, running down as veins to meet around a gaping black hole in his lower back. The skin around the wound was beginning to fester, and it took all of the Prince's strength to stop himself from retching. Wincing, he rolled the shirt back down. He had seen many infected battle wounds, but those had been on trained soldiers, therefore weren't so _gruesome._ Obviously, Merlin had been stabbed, but with _what_?

Gently, he took Merlin's arm and draped it over his shoulder. When he was sure the boy was secure, he stood with his servant—_friend_, corrected a voice in his head, sounding oddly like the young man in question-hanging on his shoulder like a sack of wheat. He started for the door, but the moment his hand brushed against the handle, he noticed something: he was shirtless. There were many things that were deemed proper for a prince to do, however there were far more tasks deemed improper. One of those tasks would be carrying a servant. Another, much _worse _behavior, would be doing so half-naked. It was one thing for the castle staff to gossip about the former, but the _latter_... He never imagined that he would ever curse the day he was born a noble.

"Damn it, Merlin," he muttered, "couldn't you have lost consciousness _after_ I was dressed?"

His only response was an almost inaudible groan, which, when Merlin didn't awaken, only served to tell him he would never be so lucky. Quickly, he rushed over to his bed, feet slapping against the stone, and attempted to find a position that would be the least painful. Unfortunately, the first thing Arthur did was lay Merlin on his back. Arthur grimaced in preparation for a reaction that never came, and that was _not_ a good sign. He was running out of time to get Merlin to Gaius. The guard was probably already in the Physician's chambers; why hadn't he just let _him _carry Merlin?

_Because _that_ guard would've dropped him, _the same voice said. _Just put on a shirt and get it over with, dollop-head._

Ignoring the mental insult to himself, he rushed to his cabinet and started opening drawers, starting to panic when his search yielded nothing but socks and undergarments. Eventually he settled on throwing on a jacket and closing it enough to pretend he was wearing something beneath. As he took in Merlin's still features, he could feel the walls he had so carefully constructed around his emotions start to crumble. This time, he didn't even bother being gentle; it wasn't as if the man would feel it, anyway, and receiving medical attention was the utmost priority.

With the manservant securely over his shoulders, the Prince slipped on a pair of boots and was out the door in a heartbeat.

* * *

In his mind, he had wasted at least half an hour trying to appease his own nobility, but in actuality it was little more than a few minutes. The journey to the Physician's chambers had been devoid of all but a few servants, as he had taken some of the less frequented passages, but he knew that word would spread like influenza. (Later, he would overhear servants whispering about how he raced through the citadel to save a servant quicker than if he were being chased by a wild boar, and he would mentally tell himself that it was a gross exaggeration.) When he finally reached his destination, the guard he had sent ahead was just leaving. At the sight of his prince, he hastily ran back up the stairs, nearly tripping in the process, and opened the door just in time to have the prince barrel through, Merlin flopping like a ragdoll on his shoulders.

Gaius was preparing the patient's bed when Arthur burst into the room. The old physician looked up and almost recoiled when he saw his ward dangling over the prince's shoulder, unconscious with skin whiter than the underside of a fish. Moving aside and gesturing for Arthur to move him to the bed, he schooled his features and asked, "What happened, sire?" _  
_

He watched as Arthur struggled to place Merlin on the bed, obviously trying to avoid laying him on his back. "He was stabbed with something, and whatever it was must've been laced with some kind of poison."

Skillfully hiding his concern, the old man shooed Arthur from the bedside and rolled up Merlin's clothes. His expression crumbled before the Prince's eyes, and the worry that he had denied finally showed in his face. "Will he be alright, Gaius?"

The old man sighed. "Sire, I believe that he has been stung by a serket." He looked up to meet Arthur's gaze, and the royal was instantly filled with dread.

His brow furrowed as he asked, "Isn't there anything you can do?" But he knew the answer. He had seen men who had felt the serket's stinger pierce their flesh, but many died before the wound ever reached the more advanced stages, and Merlin's was most definitely in one of those stages.

Gaius seemed to be at war with something in his head, which was understandable given the situation, but eventually he looked back to his ward and said, "I'll do what I can, but sire..."

"Yes?"

"The venom is powerful, and it's reached the final stage. By all accounts, he should be dead, which tells me he was healed for a short period before relapsing. I'm not entirely sure if I can do anything at all."

And with that, the Prince's hope fell.

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Alright, end of chapter two, which I mentally titled, "The Chapter in Which Nothing Actually Happens." Sorry about that. ._.' I hope it was to your liking! It feels a bit weird in some places, I think... What do you think? I hope nothing was OOC. ._. Heads up, this isn't going to be a death fic, so no worries on that end, but I'm contemplating making it a reveal fic. IDK. Anyways, if people are still interested, next chapter will be up hopefully within a week. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter, whether it was good or bad!

Best wishes,

~Pandora


	3. Chapter 3

**Seriously, you guys have no idea how grateful I am for this spectacular response to the story! I've only posted two chapters, and already there are fifty-one reviews and twice as many follows. I never expected that, and I didn't expect a continued response, so thank you truly for all of the wonderful reviews. You guys are fantastic! (:**

**Anyways, again, I do not own Merlin. If only... *sigh***

**Note: This chapter takes a few detours. This is still an episode-based fic, after all. x-x**

**Chapter 3**

It was no secret that news spread like wildfire in the castle, especially during the morning, when all of the servants began to gather in and around the kitchens to pick up their masters' breakfasts. It was there that Gwen learned of Merlin's sudden illness; apparently, Arthur had been seen practically sprinting in the direction of the Physician's chambers with his servant thrown over his shoulder, most assuredly unconscious. Merlin had been missing for two days, and upon his apparent return he was possibly fighting for his life. There was no information beyond that, and it was eating away at her thoughts as the sea eats away at the shore.

Nevertheless, she took Morgana her breakfast, as always, and attempted to act as though nothing was bothering her as she went about her morning routine. Unfortunately for her, she was a rather lousy actor.

The Lady Morgana sat at her wardrobe, gazing into the mirror with the same satisfied smile (though it was really more of a smirk) that she'd had for the past few days as her maidservant carefully brushed the tangles out of her mistress's wavy brunette hair. Gwen let out a small, shuddering sigh, furrowing her brow in almost unreasonable concentration. Morgana noticed, and with only a bit of concern for her only loyal friend, she asked, "Whatever is troubling you, Gwen?"

Gwen started, the brush almost flying from her grasp, Morgana's hair the only thing stopping it from clattering to the floor. "N-nothing, Milady," she stuttered. She closed her eyes. "Just...tired, is all."

Morgana smiled. "Oh, come now, you know I can tell when you're hiding something!" Gwen hastily pulled back the brush as Morgana turned in her seat to look up at her. "Now tell me, what's got you worrying?"

Gwen averted her eyes, frowning slightly. "Really, it's probably nothing-"

"Gwen," the Lady pleaded. "I don't like to see my friends in pain."

After a pause, the maidservant let out a sigh of resignation. "It's Merlin, Milady."

The brunette stiffened at the name and her smile faded into a frown. "Merlin? What of him?"

"I don't know!" she cried, then, realizing her outburst, looked slightly sheepish. "All I know is that Prince Arthur rushed him to Gaius, and he was unconscious. Beyond that..."

Morgana looked thoughtful for a moment, before declaring, "Then I suppose you may have the day off."

Gwen's eyes widened. Upon seeing Morgana's expression, she smiled, curtsied, and turned to make for the door.

"Oh, and Gwen?" the king's ward called out, just as the maidservant's hand brushed against the door handle. The young woman turned questioningly. Morgana simply smiled and said, "Do tell me how the boy is faring."

Guinevere nodded and left the room. Had she stayed a few seconds longer, she might've seen the way Morgana's features suddenly morphed into a scowl. How on _earth_ did Merlin escape the Darkling Woods? _Merlin_, of all people? He was just a simple servant!

_No_, she corrected. _He's _Arthur's_ servant. Knowing the Prince, he probably trained the whelp._

It was as good an explanation as any, however her mind would not be satisfied. Training or no, those chains were enchanted; no _simple servant_ could ever hope to escape, especially with Morgause as the enchantress. He must've had help. The Druids lived in the Darkling Woods, perhaps they stumbled upon him. It would explain how he had escaped, and it would explain why he hadn't been eaten alive by those hideous overgrown scorpions.

_No matter,_ she thought, standing and gazing out of her window at the physician's tower. However he escaped and however injured he may be, he could still be a hindrance to the sisters' plans. Who could know the damage already enacted? She would have to move quickly. No doubt Gaius was already working to heal his ward; if there was a chance he could succeed, then she would see to it that he would fail.

* * *

As Arthur made his way through the passageways, he attempted, in vain, to stop the torrent of thoughts racing through his head. About fifteen minutes after he had delivered Merlin to Gaius, a different nameless guard had entered, stating that the Prince was needed in the council chambers. Arthur had distractedly offered his assistance to the Physician, though truthfully the most he did was hand him a vial of suspicious-smelling liquid dubbed, "Valerian." When the guard had delivered his message, the Prince had been reluctant to leave, giving some half-baked excuse about how he didn't want to lose his one good servant, but he left after receiving a raised eyebrow from Gaius and an assurance that the old man worked best in solitude.

Now he found himself practically speed-walking through the palace, deep in thought and ignoring the servants and knights that were forced to sidestep to the point where they nearly slammed themselves into the wall. He felt guilty**-**_guilty_, of all things. He had arrogantly assumed that Merlin had spent the past two days shirking his work and the proceeded to yell at him when he was clearly in pain. Looking back on it, it was obvious; the boy had tried to disguise his pained grimaces, but he had done a shoddy job of it. And on top of _that_, he had thrown objects that could've injured the boy on a _normal_ day. Granted, throwing things was his response to being blinded almost every morning, but Merlin almost _always _ducked, and if he _did_ get hit, he would just grin that stupid grin of his and shrug it off. He _never_ got hurt, not really.

_Or he tried to hide it_. How often had Merlin been injured in some way, but tried to hide his pain? How often did it escape Arthur's attention? _If you hadn't chucked a goblet at him, _this_ would've escaped your notice, as well._ He knew it was ridiculous to fault himself for the sting, but it was his own actions that cause Merlin to pass out from the pain. Gaius said that Merlin should've died, given what stage he was in, but even if he wasn't dead _then_ didn't mean he wouldn't die from the venom later. Arthur was worried**-**_yes_, worried. His manservant was the only man who had the courage to stand up to him, even in his fowler moods. Somewhere along the way, he had become..._fond_ of the boy. He didn't quite know what it was, but something in the back of his head told him that he could _not_ lose Merlin; not now, not ever.

Not that he would ever admit these thoughts. Even in his own head he made excuses.

But on a different note, how in the _hell_ had Merlin gotten himself stung by a _serket_? Since when did his servant make unscheduled trips to the Darkling Woods, without even telling is mentor? He mentally made a note to ask Merlin when he awakened and was on his way to recovery.

He didn't know how long it had been, but he suddenly found himself outside of the council chambers. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to push the thoughts of his servant to the back of his mind. He made a motion to the guards posted at either side of the large wooden doors, and the doors were opened. With another sigh, he steeled his nerves and walked into the chambers with his kingdom at the forefront of his mind, the very picture of the king he would one day be.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm keeping all of them roughly the same length. Sorry if it seemed off, and sorry that nothing happened-again. ._. I promise, next chapter will have actual stuff happening! Please, tell me what you guys think! Reviews are greatly appreciated, whether you want to say something good or point out something that could be better.

Anyways, thanks for reading this far! :)

~Pandora


	4. Chapter 4

**I can't thank you guys enough for your reviews! Even if I don't respond to them individually, I read and consider every single one, so thank you. :) Please, if you read this chapter, review and tell me what you think! Reviews are really encouraging. :o**

**Again, I don't own Merlin... I don't even own all of the series on DVD yet. T.T**

**Chapter 4**

Gwen would've been ecstatic at her mistress's generosity, had her fear for Merlin's well-being not overpowered everything else. She scurried through the hallways of the castle, weaving around the bustle of servants and moving over respectfully for the knights and guards. She hoped that whatever had happened was something that she could help with; she was by no means experienced with medicine, but she knew how to take care of an ill patient.

She had almost reached the courtyard when she saw the people ahead move hastily aside to accommodate a rapidly approaching figure: Prince Arthur. She let out a little bit of the breath she was holding and raised her hand to get Arthur's attention. "Sire!" she called, though Arthur showed no signs that he had heard. "How's..." And the Prince continued past, just barely far enough away to avoid a collision. "...Merlin?" she finished lamely.

She frowned and continued on to the physician's chambers. Arthur was rarely one to show his emotions, especially in public; whatever was wrong with Merlin... She wasn't even sure she wanted to think about it. Anyone else might think that the Prince was merely frustrated because of his father's illness and the fact that he had to run the kingdom all on his own, however Gwen knew better. He may never admit it, but there was always a certain look that would appear in his eyes when someone he cared about was in danger, and as he walked by that look was displayed blatantly in his features.

After ascending the stairs of the Physician's tower, she hesitated at the door, her hand raised to knock. What if he was mixing something important and the sound caused him to mess up? As unlikely as it sounded, she nevertheless preferred not to take that risk. Gently, she pushed open the door just enough to peek in.

"Gaius?" she asked, somewhat quietly. After a distant-sounding, "Come in," she pushed open the door to see Gaius at his work table crushing ingredients in a mortar. She didn't see Merlin until she stepped into the room, and what she saw was worse than she could've imagined.

The boy was lying on his stomach, his unnaturally pale face turned slightly to allow for breathing, the gruesome wound on his back exposed. It looked as though someone had taken a spade and planted a blackened seed in his lower back that had begun to take root. She brought her hand to her face, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat and stopping the gasp of shock that threatened to voice itself.

She tore her eyes away and turned to the physician, who was so immersed in his work that she doubted he noticed her presence, even after giving her permission to enter. He was mumbling various herbs and procedures to himself, attempting to keep focused on curing his patient rather than the patient that needed curing. When he suddenly stopped at St. John's Wort, looking around his worktable in vain, Gwen walked over to one of the many shelves used for herb storage and searched the labels. With a quiet, "Aha!" she took the flower from the shelf and rushed to the physician's worktable, pointedly avoiding looking at the man's ward.

He looked up when she handed him the herb. He gave her a small smile of thanks before returning to his work, placing the fine powder he'd just finished into a bowl before taking the petals of each flower and filling the mortar. When he had crushed the petals completely, leaving only pulp and a yellow-tinted liquid, he placed that into the bowl, as well, and then started mixing.

"What is it that you're doing, Gaius?" she asked. "Is there something I can do?"

Not pausing, he answered, "I'm making a salve. It's a very ancient remedy." To himself, he added, "Not sure of it's reliability..." Louder, he continued, "I've made adjustments, and when applied, the salve should draw out some of the venom that remains in his system."

Her brow furrowed. "Will he be alright, then?"

The old man didn't answer immediately. The contents of the bowl were now combined into a sickly green paste; apparently, that was the desired outcome, for the physician then took the bowl and maneuvered around Gwen to sit in the chair at Merlin's bedside. "If you'd help me to apply this, Gwen, I would be most grateful."

Immediately she was at his side. "Of course, Gaius!" When the old physician took a bit of salve in hand and began rubbing it around the main wound, she began to follow his lead. The fact that Merlin didn't respond was very troublesome; no moaning, no flickering of the eyelids... Shaking herself from her reverie, she began rubbing the salve onto the black tendrils that ran along the boy's back. After a moment, she said quietly, "You never answered my question, Gaius."

The physician sighed. "To be honest, Gwen, I don't know." His face was like stone, revealing no emotion, however his eyes were solemn, revealing a man who had lost so much and was afraid to lose any more. "I've given him several tinctures, valerian among them; however, if he's going to recover, it will be entirely up to him. Short of performing _magic_, there is nothing more I can do."

Gwen resisted the urge to burst into tears. Hope was _not_ gone! Not yet. She just _knew _Merlin would recover; he _had_ to.

Once the salve was applied, Gaius sent her to the other side of the room to retrieve bandages. She could've sworn she heard the man mumble something as she walked, but when she returned he gave no indication that he had spoken. Handing the cloth to Gaius, she gently helped to get Merlin into a sitting position so that the bandages could be wrapped around his midsection, frowning at how _warm _and feverish his skin was. Once he was returned to a laying position, now on his back, Gaius stood.

"Gwen, could I ask you to stay with him? His temperature is rather high and until the potions begin to take effect, he needs to be kept cool. I would do it myself, however there are other patients that require my attention."

The maidservant nodded. "Of course, anything I can do!"

Gaius gave her a small smile, taking his medicine bag from the table. "Thank you, Gwen."

And then she was alone—not technically _alone, _but it felt that way when the only other occupant was unconscious. With a sigh, she walked to Gaius's worktable, finding the bucket of water she'd hoped would be there. It was only filled about halfway, but that would be enough. She went back to Merlin's side and, sitting in the chair that Gaius had been in not moments before, began to take the spare cloth and dip it in the water.

"Oh, Merlin," she whispered, ringing out the water and placing the cloth on his forehead, which felt as though someone had lit a pyre atop it. "What did you get yourself into?"

* * *

"Merlin..."

_What? Who is that?_

"Merlin, open your eyes."

_Right now I feel rather restful, so I think I'll have to pass._

"Merlin, you cannot give up just yet."

_Give up? What made you jump to _that_ conclusion? I'm not giving up, I'm simply resting... You'd think I deserved it, after all the things that prat's put me through._

"Merlin, open your eyes, or be lost."

..._What does that mean?_

"It means, open your eyes, you big clotpole!"

He snapped his eyes open to be greeted by...

_Darkness._

He frowned. "Where...?"

"Where do you _think_?" The voice came from behind. He spun around, meeting a pair of azure eyes identical to his own.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously I've gone insane, because I'm talking to myself."

His mirror image smirked. "Not insane, just unconscious...maybe a bit delirious...definitely not dead, though, which is always a plus."

Suddenly everything came rushing back to him: the serket, Kilgharrah, Arthur, the pain... Apparently, not heeding the dragon's advice had cost him.

Merlin looked at his surroundings (or lack thereof), asking, "Why is so...?"

"Empty? Dark?" his image offered. Sighing, he answered simply, "Because you're dying."

Merlin's head snapped back to meet the other's gaze. "What do you mean? Kilgharrah used his magic to heal me!"

"Yes, but do you remember what he said? You know, that little thing about _not overexerting yourself?_" His image raised an eyebrow. Had the situation been less dire, Merlin might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

He frowned. "But-"

"I'm you, I know you're logic," the image interrupted. "His magic was fighting the venom, but only so long as you _rested_. Now it's just your magic fighting it, and it needs all the help it can get—hence, why you are in this place and why I am standing before you."

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a pause, he said, "I'm still confused, why are you here?"

The image rolled its eyes, but before it could respond, another voice cut through the blackness.

"He is the half of your magic you've yet to tap in to."

Both Merlins' eyes widened. Simultaneously, they turned to see the owner of that voice, and simultaneously they called out, "Freya?"

* * *

It was with urgency that Morgana strode towards the King's chambers. She was the king's ward-no one would find it suspicious if she wanted to be at Uther's bedside while he was so desperately 'ill'. In fact, being so 'loved' by the King made her exempt from any and all suspicion entirely-one of the only advantages of living with the tyrant.

As she made her way to the King's chambers, she hoped _desperately_ that Merlin hadn't had the chance to do any harm to their plans. If he knew about the mandrake and managed to destroy it somehow before coming down with whatever it was that was ailing him, then the King could recover before they even _tried_ to overthrow him. Needless to say, Morgause would not be pleased, though Camelot wouldn't stand a chance against her, king or no. Still, Morgause stressed how important keeping the King weakened and unfit to lead...

When the guards bowed their heads in respect and opened the door to Uther's chambers, she entered with a look of false concern and a mind attempting to convince itself that the mandrake would still be there. The moment the doors were closed and she was left alone, however, she knew she would not be so lucky. The only sound was that of breathing; if the mandrake still hung beneath the bed, it would be accompanied by a slow, but steady, tapping sound as the black sludge in which it had bathed dripped to the floor. Cautiously, she walked over to the bed and, sparing a moment to glare at the sleeping occupant, she took a breath and kneeled to peer underneath.

_Nothing_.

She resisted the urge to scream in frustration, only to wind up nearly shrieking in fright as a voice asked, "Have you lost something, Milady?"

She straightened up and turned to see Gaius, gazing at her with an oddly unnerving calm (given his circumstances) and a raised eyebrow. She hardly faltered when she replied, "My earring! I thought I might have dropped it when I was in here yesterday."

If she didn't know better, she would say that the old man was skeptical. He couldn't know...unless Merlin told him.

To be sure, she looked to the King with eyes brimming with worry and asked, "How is he?"

"Much better," Gaius said, nonchalant. "We found the source of his sickness. He was being enchanted."

The man's stoic features gave little away. Fear crawled up her spine like a small, deadly spider, making her shocked exclamation of, "_Enchanted?!_" all the more realistic.

"You need not worry, Milady. He'll make a full recovery."

She smiled, though she wanted nothing more than to let down her hair so she could tear at it. With what she hoped was sincerity, she said, "That is a relief!"

The eyebrow raised once more. "Indeed, Milady."

She bowed her head slightly and began to walk around him when a thought occurred to her.

"How is Merlin?" she asked, turning to face the old physician and dreading the answer. If it turned out that the Prince clobbered him over the head and he would be on his feet within the day...

"He was attacked by a serket," he said cautiously.

She feigned a look of horror easily enough, "A _serket?!_ One of those hideous scorpion _things_?"

"Yes," he said curtly. He paused for a moment, before adding, "I am not optimistic."

With that, he turned and went to the King's bedside. Knowing she would get nothing more from him, she left the room, conflicted with the satisfaction of knowing that the thorn in her side would soon be removed and the fear that the damage may already be too great.

* * *

Alright, so this one was slightly longer than the others. Please, tell me what you think! I love getting feedback! :3

I'm not sure when the next update will be. I hope to get it within a week, but apparently I have a summer assignment that I haven't started on... . Anyways, best wishes!

~Pandora


	5. Chapter 5

**I keep opening with this, but thank you again to all of you who reviewed/followed/favorited! It means the world to me! (:**

**I apologize for taking a bit longer to update than usual. Friday my mother had knee surgery, Saturday and Sunday my grandfather was in the hospital, and every other day had me working on summer assignments and spending time with people who are going away for college. Still not done with that darned assignment, but hopefully I can get the next chapter up a bit faster. **

**Sadly, Merlin is not mine...**

**Chapter 5**

It had been a little over a year, but she was still just as beautiful as he remembered (though he _was_ trapped within his own mind, after all). He could feel tears prick at his eyes as she smiled sadly at him, her pale skin and wavy brunette hair seeming to glow in the tenebrosity.

"Freya," he nearly whispered. "Why are you here?"

She stepped forward and took his hands in hers. "Merlin," she started, equally as quiet, "As much as I wish to be by your side, it must not happen this way. You aren't fated to join me for _many _years to come."

"Your destiny with Arthur is nowhere _near_ finished," his Magic chimed in. "Arthur has no idea what he's up against!"

Merlin tore his eyes away from Freya to say, albeit half-heartedly, "Arthur's improved, one day he'll be a great king without me..."

"Merlin!" the woman exclaimed, causing his eyes to snap back to her. "You can't believe that! Arthur is not ready to be king, and only with _your_ guidance will he get there."

"Are you sure, because-"

"Yes, Merlin," she interrupted, "I am. He's changed because of _you_. You there to tell him what he _needs_ to hear, rather than what he _wants_, is what is drawing out the king he is meant to be; you are two sides-"

"-of the same coin," Merlin finished. His brow furrowed and he looked at his hands, still being held by the spirit before him. "Freya, I wish..." He trailed off, unsure.

She smiled, softly saying, "I know," before letting go of his hands. "I once told you that one day I would repay you. Though that time has not yet come, I will help you to live to see it."

She lifted her hand to place it upon his forehead, and he closed his eyes, smiling at the sensation of the pure magic that coursed through his veins. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

His Magic walked over to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry," he said. "You will see her again."

Merlin just nodded and, after taking a steadying breath, turned to face his duplicate. "She's given us a fighting chance to help Prince Dollop-head; let's not waste it, shall we?"

* * *

The moment he was alone in the council chambers, the knights having gone to carry out their orders and Gaius, who showed up slightly late, having gone to resume caring for Merlin (who hadn't shown any signs of improvement), the Prince let out an exhausted sigh and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. He'd just ordered to place the castle under _seige_; yes, it was what his father would do, but was it truly right? Gaius had mentioned peace talks to buy time, but that would've made Camelot appear weak. It was bad enough that news of his father's illness had traveled, there was no need for the people to believe that such a powerful king's replacement was _soft_.

Though he would never admit it aloud, he needed Merlin by his side. After every council meeting, the boy offered up comments and advice on what he'd heard so often that eventually Arthur came to expect it, even _seek _it. While that may not have been a council meeting, per say, it involved the first _truly _important decision he'd made in his father's stead. Even if it would have been simply a few words of encouragement coated in good natured teasing, having his manservant there to give him a good kick in the backside was something he'd grown accustomed to.

Abruptly, he straightened and stood, and all signs of doubt melted away. With a purpose, he rose and strode around the table and through the large wooden doors, heading towards the Physician's chambers.

* * *

Six horses stood upon a large, barren expanse, lined by trees and beneath a grey and almost sunless sky. Morgause smirked as her ally led his horse directly before her, appearing far too arrogant for his own good.

"My dear Morgause!" he exclaimed, sarcastically surprised.

The blonde's lips turned up slightly, her eyes dark. "Cenred," she acknowledged simply.

The corrupt king cut to the chase. "My army shall be here by nightfall."

She smiled larger this time, thinking of her goal. Her enchantment had weakened Camelot; with an army such as that she had planned, the kingdom was hers and her sister's to take.

Cenred raised an eyebrow slightly, obviously pleased with himself as he said, "I'm glad this pleases you."

"I will wait and see if you deliver before I say that I am pleased."

"And when I do?"

_With you, Cenred, I would not set my hopes too high... _She smirked. "Then I will give you a feast you will _never_ forget!"

* * *

Morgana was trying very hard not to panic. Morgause was nowhere to be seen, though she knew that her sister wasn't actually supposed to meet her for another few hours, giving her just enough time to contemplate the news she was going to deliver. She wasn't worried about being alone in the Darkling Woods**-**after all, she _did_ have magic, albeit not yet to it's full strength**-**but she _was_ worried about how her sister would take the news of Merlin escaping them. A simple servant _thwarted _their plans, all the while being seriously injured. Even when _dying_, he was a nuisance.

She paced to and fro, her traveling cloak swishing over the foliage at her feet. Perhaps she should have sent a message... She had been so worried about the missing mandrake and the onslaught that very well might fail that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. As she hurried to leave the citadel, she had been stopped by a guard who had been told that no one was to leave the city**-**apparently her _dear _adoptive brother had ordered them to prepare for a siege. Had the enchantment not been broken, she would've laughed at the Prince's foolishness.

However, the walls of Camelot were virtually _impenetrable_ without magic as an aid. The throne that was so rightfully hers may yet slip from her grasp. _  
_

And all thanks to a servant.

There had to be something more, but _what?_ She hadn't bothered to check if Gaius had been truthful; even if he was wrong and Merlin was recovering, it wasn't as though she knew what to do with the boy. She needed her sister's guidance, as always._  
_

Yet her sister was not here. The surrounding forest was becoming ever more shadowed, and she _still_ had yet to arrive. What was it that Morgause continuously said to her? Have patience? Well, what a lot of good that did. Nevertheless, she sighed and stopped her pacing. It was nearing the time for them to meet, and her one ally would arrive any second.

* * *

When Arthur reached the door to the Physician's chambers, he stopped. He had no idea what to expect, no idea how to react. Would Merlin be the same or would he have gotten worse? He wasn't entirely sure what to think about the latter.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he reached out to open the door, only to have it open to reveal a somewhat startled Gwen holding an empty bucket.

"Arthur!" she exclaimed, exiting the chambers and shutting the door behind her. Her eyes shown with concern for him as she asked, "How is your father?"

He sighed. "I could do with him here." _And Merlin_, a voice added from somewhere in the back of his consciousness.

Her response was immediate. "You should have more faith in yourself."

_How can I have faith in myself when I've doomed the people to war? _Rather than voicing the dark thought that suddenly flicked through his mind, he asked, "What are the people saying?"

Gwen gave a small smile. "Since the King's illness, they are glad you have taken charge."

Suddenly he blurted, "I've committed them to a siege! Guinevere..." He trailed off, a frown playing on his fair features.

"I know, Arthur," she said softly, placing the bucket on the ground beside her feet. "Gaius told me what happened."

"There _will_ be casualties, Gwen. The people trusted me to lead them, to _help_ them, and the only way to help them is to let them watch as their villages burn, cowering within the walls of a city which they know will soon be attacked and knowing they can never go home." Huh. Apparently Sir Leon's question about the livelihoods of those in the outlying villages had gotten to him a bit.

Gwen took a step forward and placed a hand upon his arm, her face the very picture of faith and love. "I trust you, Arthur, as does every citizen of Camelot. More than Uther**-**more than any man, in fact. Worry is not a wise council, Arthur, you must follow what _you_ believe is right and forget everything else."

As he placed his hand over hers, she looked up at him; no more words were necessary, and though his mind was still in turmoil, it had lessened with her words. Suddenly, she took a step back, retrieving the bucket and curtsying.

"I should go, Sire," she said. "Gaius asked me to get more water for Merlin."

As she moved to leave, Arthur frowned. "There is no need to call me that."

She turned to look at him once more, smiling as she said, "There is _every _need, Sire." And then she was gone.

He stood there for a few moments. Suddenly, he was spurred into action by a loud crash and the shattering of glass from beyond the door.

* * *

Alright, I'll admit, not my favorite... Still, tell me what you think! I love feedback! I've been trying to keep with a few points of the episode, so hopefully those scenes weren't dry or anything. ._.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you thought!

Best wishes,  
~Pandora


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